Thursday, June 23, 2016

pummelled by the light of starswhen all that I know how to beis a shadow in the darka secret and hiding heartwith wolve's teeth to keep it warmshielding with the viscosity of its own bloodlike there could be any outcomeother than the exposure that comeswhen you pray to be really seenbut never have a sayon the parts where the illuminationis going to shine and what is often seen the firstare the places you have hiddenso deep and darkyour eyes cannot withstandthe light that comes to touchwhat has become comfortably blindin the absence of the stars

if I come off as untruemaybe that's just what comesas the residual side effectin inauthentic's formwhen authentic meansthe inconsistencyof feeling whatever it isI feelwhen I don't understand or even knowwhat the hell it isI feel

a fighter taught me oncewe don't ask for mercy hereyou stand your eight countswhen you gottabut you don't drop downupon your kneesso that I am learning even to praystanding on my feetto be ready to dance towardan answer when it comes

and the oneswho will never pull a punchare a blessing when you meetcause it's the ones who get youup against the ropes who teach you to be quickeron those feet

when there's no tellingwhat life is going to bringso all you can dois train to always winwhere the battles are only lostagainst the selfand never what you're up against

and in the scheme of thingsthere's only one way outof this here ringand so you have to learnto take the blows hard upon the chinand transmute the wounds to scarsor spend the hours on the matsdying of the self-inflictionof the cowards and the weakwho don't know what it isto face and then surviveand inherit from experiencethe alchemy it takes to rise

no I won't ask for mercyjust gotta catch my breathand while I'm standing eight countsI'm sending up the warriors' prayer that I will honour all the blows that I have ever takenand the places they came fromwith the wisdom and the lessonin what they had to teachuntil I'm no longer a fighterfighting against myselfbut a dancer to my heartbeatand the choreography of what it takesto find the resilience and the gracein every single test

Sunday, June 19, 2016

modern societyand its days with namesputting the consumerismin the connection and taking moneyfor the meaningremoving rituals from their proper timeleaving us with disjointedrites of loneliness and mass market marginalizationwhen we don't quite fitthe status quo

billboard assaultsand TV indoctrinationmisappropriation that imprintsits varying shades of Stockholm Syndrometattooed on our soulsso that we plug a little further into the empire of New Romeand celebrate the selling of our own hard labour to appease the Hallmark godswith the thorough replication of their plastic altersof storefront windowsin our homes

and if that can't be done just rightyou can always buya magic make-it-better potion and a special little pillor gorge yourself on genetically alteredpoisoned processed feastsdesigned to make youType 2 numb

but you'll be fineif you remember the cureis to buy buy buyuntil you fit right inor can hide the fact you can't quite squeeze into the one size fits all dictationof where they've exploitedwhat is closest to our heartsthen found a way to marketour emotions back to us

and if the emotions don't fit just rightfor the day that they proclaimthey'll catch you with the purported alleviation of alienationguaranteed as advertisedbecause everybody paysfor their celebration

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

maybe sometimes dreams and aspirationsbelong only to the ghost parts of uswhen the toxicity of being humancan't find its way backclose enough to purefor the manifestation of visionand the human that reaches for the dreamcan do nothing but haunt the ghosts

Monday, June 13, 2016

in a world where people have sexwhile they figure out if they want to datewhere people share intimate detailswhile they decide if they want to talkand then call that "friends"when everything is movingcontrary to the natural order of thingsit isn't fatalisticbut realisticto think that while everyone is waitingfor the next stepthere isn't too many places to gobut to regressin the slow downward spiralof the disease of digressionin the breaking apart of the fibresof human connection

and then others sayI'm a lightand bring me their needsto be prayed forand loved

and I can't tellwhat the heck makesthe difference

is it what I haveor don't have to giveor maybe what they'rewilling to offeror what they can't stand to lose

sometimes I thinkthe difference is inthe ones who really see meand the ones who don'twith the seers knowing enoughto be afraidand the ones who don'tbeing comfortably blindwhen all that's on the lineis a temporary moment of need

or maybe it's all in what peoplewant me to beand how well I deliver upthe version of me that they seek

either waythe ones who don't want mestill want to feel closewhen they need to feel closeto just the right amountof anonymity that won't askfor anything back

and the ones who want medon't want me too closebecause close can only be closewhen it ain't

there is still so muchI need to knowgasping for claritybetween the tsunami of dreamsand the earthquakesof encrypted whispersand echoes

I have always known the thingsI can't quite rememberwhen I've been remembering youin my dreamssince memory was given to mein this consciousness here

and I am remembering stilleven with you moved oninto the next placewhere I will find youto meet againcarrying more questions with methan I had before I had these fragmented answers

and the only things I knowfor certainare that old soldiers remember morethan they can bearand less than they have doneand this here is illusionwith the reality being lovethat transcends questionsand answers and memoriespartial and fulland remembers the only answerit needs to know is love

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

they brought the devil
on a ship named Shame
first to my ancestors
and then to yours
unpacking their portable Hells
on the banks of our shores
like bio weapons
to infect our DNA
lodged as spores
inside our minds

do not believe them
when they say
shame is the inoculation
that keeps the Devil at bay
when the power of our shame
is what gives their Satan its form
and the only hell we have to fear
is the cage we construct
with the inauthentic
and the struggle to hide
that we fall short
not of what we truly want
but what we think we have to be

Hell exists first
inside the dimension
behind the eyes
and then is recreated externally
by the nightmares we pass off
to ourselves and to others
under the disguise of dreams
when they are only
fights and flights from terrors
and not pursuits of glories
we seek to manifest
and inflict upon this Earth

Heaven is a place
where we make peace
with our truths
and shame becomes
as much illusion
as the imaginary devils
we let take space and haunt
the sacred temples
of the holiness of our being

so if possession
by the devil is evil
why let the concept of sin
poses you at all
when you are free
to possess yourself
under the sovereignty
of your truth